What Is A Love Song?
by DelphieKat
Summary: Mac’s apartment is a mess, and she’s decided to ask for the help of a few friends to clean the place... Takes place right after Straits Of Malacca. Although Vukovic is mentioned, it's not really for his utmost professionalism cough...


_What Is A Love Song?_

Author: DelphieKat  
Rating:G  
Classification: Vignette  
Spoilers: Up to _Straits of Malacca_

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, never have, never will, unfortunately… They belong to DPB… No copyright infringement intended. Please look at the end for a more complete disclaimer regarding the songs used in this story.

Summary: Mac's apartment is a mess, and she's decided to ask for the help of a few friends to clean the place…

Author's Notes: Okay, I confess, this is exactly what I do when I have to do some cleaning… And believe me, it's even worse than what I have described. You know, it would make me feel much better if I knew that I'm not the only one doing that… In a word, feedback is always welcomed…

A huge thanks to Aerogirl for her time. You're always ready to beta my stories, and it's extremely appreciated

* * *

. 

0201 ZULU  
Mac's Apartment  
Georgetown, D.C.

With a heavy sigh, Mac slumped on her couch, extending her left arm blindly to grab the remote that was on the side table. Surfing through the channels three times at Mach 2, she finally turned the TV off, disappointed to realise that there was nothing interesting on Friday night. Leaning further into the back of the sofa, she closed her eyes.

It had been a tough week – hell, a tough couple weeks. First, Harm had been charged with murder, once again. Fortunately, this time, he didn't have to face any brig time, and the captain had cleared his name. However, his altercation with Sturgis had apparently affected him, forestalling the slightest smile from his face ever since he came back from the Kennedy. Harm hadn't told her much, just that Sturgis "Almighty" Turner had decided that his decision to take the civilian plane down was worth a court-martial, and she had rapidly understood, from the look in his eyes, that she'd be better not to ask too many questions right away.

Then, there was the new lieutenant – Vukovic. Cresswell had placed him under her wing, but all she wanted to do was throttle him with both hands. She should have smacked him into the wall when he had ogled her the first time, but she had given him a chance, and now she regretted it. There was nothing beyond his reach to win a case. Singer had once planted evidence in her car, but she had never created witnesses out of nothing to prove her point. This guy would have to be kept on a short leash, and she secretly wished he would take a few more side steps, giving her the pleasure of pulling the choker to break him in.

Next, just when she thought nothing could have been worse, Harm had met Vukovic… Mac couldn't help but shake her head at the thought. She'd been with Harm in the library, searching for the most recent statute law regarding their case, when he had overheard Vukovic talking to one of his friends from BUPERS. The lieutenant was boasting that 'he would bring the alluring colonel into a horizontal tango before the first day of spring.' In a flash, Harm was taking a position in front of him, towering the shorter guy of all his height, giving him no chance but to stand at attention. Approaching until he was toe-to-toe with Vukovic, Harm had lectured him about consideration towards a senior officer, in a dangerously controlled intonation that would have make Admiral Chegwidden nod in appreciation. She knew all new junior lawyers couldn't be just like Bud, but she had realised that respect was now an optional class at Naval Justice School…

A couple days later, she'd been ordered to the USS Condon with Lieutenant HotShot, who had once again pushed the limits of her authority, and pulled some stunts even the old, reckless Harm wouldn't have tried. He had been quite lucky up to now, but he would get someone killed one day. Somehow, that concerned her, since the victim might not be him.

Finally, while she was away, Harm had been assigned to Florida for an undetermined period of time. They hadn't really had time to talk before his departure, but when she came back to Washington, she had found a little note on her desk. Covered with Harm's compact writing, it said that he wished her the best of luck with the new guy, and that he would miss her. He had been acting quite strangely since his return from the Persian Gulf, and she hadn't been able to find out exactly what was bothering him, besides his fight with Sturgis. Sending a silent prayer to God, she asked Him to watch over her favourite squid.

Rubbing a weary hand over her face, she slowly opened her eyes, and instinctively surveyed the room. Her recent trip to Malacca, not even a month after her assignment to Afghanistan, had given her the perfect excuse to postpone a much-needed cleaning of her place. Honestly, the whole apartment was a mess. Pushing herself up without much enthusiasm, she headed for the stereo. "There's no way I'm going to start this without you, guys," she mumbled to herself, searching in her CDs' index for one of her favourite 'I'm-not-in-the-mood' discs - The Very Best Of Village People.

Dialling the corresponding number on the system, she turned up the volume and returned her attention to the coffee table, a wide smile lighting her face as the first notes filled the air. The captivating rhythm had soon lured her body, and she started marking the beat with her head, softly humming the well-known lyrics. She gathered the newspapers and magazines that were spread across the table, and her hips and shoulders took on a life of their own, encouraging her to dance to the sound of the music.

It was definitely not the most efficient way to do some cleaning, but it was perfect for her mood. She had missed the first chorus, but when it came back for the second time around, she put everything down to mimic the shape of the four famous letters with her arms. Surprisingly, by the end of the song, the living room didn't look like a war zone anymore.

Driven by a sudden new enthusiasm, she returned to the stereo and hit the 'random' button. With fresh energy, she headed for the sink, which was filled with piles of dirty dishes. Pouring some soap under the running hot water, she heard the first lyrics of Gloria Gaynor's renowned song – _I Will Survive_.

Unable to resist, she started singing aloud, moving her head very theatrically at the end of every sentence. This atypical exercise was the perfect outlet for all the tensions that had been assailing her exhausted body. Once in a while, she grabbed the brush and used it as a mic, but most of the time, the music simply gave her the boost she needed to scrub the sticky residues off her dirty pans.

She continued like this for a while, quite certain that her stereo knew what mood she was in, since it had only played songs with a strong rhythm – until a point. She was in her bedroom, putting the last touch to her comforter, when she heard the first strings. Immediately, she knew that her good humour couldn't last forever.

_I should have seen it coming when roses died  
__Should have seen the end of summer in your eyes  
__I should have listened when you said good night  
__You really meant good bye_

Bon Jovi had always been one of her favourite bands. They were one of the few exceptions among the enormous universe of music groups – they were still popular, even after two decades. She loved all their songs, but the ballads had always had a special place in her heart, and this one in particular. The rational part of her brain knew that Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora had written this song before she even met Harm, but her tortured mind had identified their lives in its lyrics.

_Baby, ain't it funny, how you never ever learn to fall  
__You're really on your knees, when you think you're standing tall  
__But only fools are "know-it-alls" and I played that fool for you_

She'd been that fool. She had always known that Harmon Rabb was the man that could make her happy, for the rest of her life, but she had done so many stupid things over the years, she wasn't even sure she could remember them all. She should have continued her initial line of questioning when they were lost in the Appalachians. She should have never doubted him aboard the Watertown. She should have understood what he meant when he had said 'not yet' on that ferry. She should have stayed in his arms on the admiral's porch. She should have never gone with Webb on that risky mission. She should have never said those horrible things about Mattie and Sergei. She should have accepted his sincere help when she learned about her health condition. She was such a fool.

_I cried and I cried  
__There were nights that died for you baby  
__I tried and I tried to deny that your love drove me crazy, baby_

_If the love that I got for you is gone  
__If the river I cried ain't that long  
__Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong, this ain't a love song_

In a desperate attempt to fight the melancholy that was threatening to overwhelm her completely, she tried to sing louder than the band. Her voice was surprisingly clear for the first part of the chorus, but when she struck up the second verse, it broke down completely. There was no way she could deny the love she had for him. Even when she'd been with Webb, she'd known that she still loved him. For her, this was definitely a love song.

_Baby, I thought you and me would stand the test of time  
__Like we got away with the perfect crime but  
__We were just a legend in my mind  
__I guess that I was blind  
__Remember those nights dancing at the masquerade  
__The clowns wore smiles that wouldn't fade  
__You and I were the renegades, some things never change_

Time. They were running out of time. How could she dare hope that they might finally find each other, when she was the one who had said never, not so long ago? Recently, they had both been wearing masks around one another, perfecting the art of hiding their true feelings. They were acting civilly at work, but it had been a while since they had spent some time together outside of JAG. The era of the renegades, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, seemed long gone.

Ignoring the tears that were burning her eyes, she forced herself to sing louder, despite her hoarse voice, as if to show to the entire world that she wasn't ready to give up.

Harm had parked his Corvette down the street. The flight from Florida had been uneventful, but his mind had kept drifting back to Washington. He had missed Mac, and to know that she was on a mission with that new lieutenant had nothing to comfort him. He still didn't understand why the general had asked him to supervise Lieutenant Mayfield, while Mac was pounding some sense into Vukovic with a 20-pound sledgehammer, but his CO must have had his reasons.

When Harm left the airport, he didn't feel like spending his night home alone. He needed to talk. He needed to talk to Mac. Driving across the city, he tried to think about what he was going to tell her. He had told Mattie that he loved her, but he couldn't quite figure a way to say the words point-blank to Mac.

* * *

. 

Despite the late hour, he noticed that the lights were still on in her apartment. When he reached her floor, he immediately heard the slow music. As he neared her door, he recognised the song. It wasn't hard; it was one of his favourites.

_It made me so mad 'cause I wanted it bad for us baby  
__Now it's so sad that whatever we had, ain't worth saving  
__If the love that I got for you is gone  
__If the river I've cried ain't that long  
__Then I'm wrong, yes I'm wrong, this ain't a love song_

The lyrics had always reminded him of them. Despite the stunning physical similarities, he had realised that she was definitely not Diane the moment their hands had touched, when they first met. Since that day, he had known that she would be an everlasting part of his life. However, recently, he wasn't sure she still believed that their friendship was worth saving. They had shared so much during the nine years they had known each other – doubt, satisfaction, loss, victory, pain, relief, angst, support – that love had fallen down the list of priorities, and friendship had seemed to follow suit recently.

_If the pain that I'm feeling so strong  
__Is the reason that I'm holding on  
__Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong - this ain't a love song_

But he still loved her. The searing pain breaking his heart every time he couldn't see a sincere smile on her face – or worse, when this smile was addressed to someone else – wasn't enough to stop loving her. There were no other women he wanted to spend his life with – only Sarah MacKenzie. This was definitely a love song.

With a deep breath, he summoned all the courage he could find inside his body and soul, and he knocked on the door. He knew instantly that it was to no avail, as it sounded to his own ears just like another drum hit during the guitar solo. Tying up the little voice in the back of his head that was nagging him he was making a mistake, he reached for the knob, and pushed the door hesitantly as he realised that it was unlocked.

_I cried and I cried  
__There were nights that I died for you baby  
__I tried and I tried to deny that your love drove me crazy_

His heart swelled at the sight in front of him. Mac was in her bedroom, totally unaware of his presence. She was sitting on the corner of her bed, holding a teddy bear tightly to her chest, tearstains clearly visible on her cheeks. A frail flicker of hope flashed in his mind, as he recognised the bear in BDUs he had given her at Christmas. When she had fallen asleep at the hospital, he had gone to the nearest Build-a-Bear Factory, and he had bought the cutest plush animal, along with cammies, boots and dog tags. She had teased him endlessly about that, but he would have never admitted that Mattie had brought him there in the first place for Little AJ's birthday, a couple months before.

Harm drew a deep shaky breath to calm down and took a step forward. If the sight if front of him was the slightest indication that Mac might be feeling the same way he did, he had to do something. He couldn't just turn on his heels and walk away. Joining his melodic voice to Jon Bon Jovi's, he started singing words that mirrored exactly what his heart wanted to say.

_If the love that I got for you is gone  
__If the river I cried ain't that long  
__Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong - this ain't no love song_

_If the pain that I'm feeling so strong  
__Is the reason that I'm holding on  
__Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong - this ain't a love song_

* * *

. 

Mac opened her eyes with a start when she heard his mellifluous voice. Gingerly, he sat down beside her, the side of his leg almost – but still not – touching hers. He freed one of her hands delicately and brought it up to his heart, to emphasise the lyrics he was singing.

She didn't know what to say. He had that tortured look in his face she knew too well, and she saw her own distress in his eyes. Nobody really expected him back in Washington before at least a week or two, but there he was, sitting next to her, sharing their sorrow through an amazing song.

Readily accepting his unspoken invitation, she leaned into his embrace, her head propped on his chest. Listening attentively at his heartbeat, she felt him move slightly, as he rested his head on hers, his arm encircling her waist tenderly.

Both relishing each other's presence, they silently listened to the fading lyrics of what was indisputably a love song. The infamous talk would come later – maybe some other day – but for now, Bon Jovi had found the right words.

_If the pain that I'm feeling so strong  
__Is the reason that I'm holding on  
__Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong - this ain't a love song  
__Yes, I'm wrong, yeah, I'm wrong - this ain't a love song  
__Yes, I'm wrong, yeah, I'm wrong - this ain't a love song  
__Yes, I'm wrong, yeah, I'm wrong - this ain't a love song_

FIN

A.N. Okay, so here is the missing disclaimer… All the songs don't belong to me. _Y.M.C.A_. is from Village People, _I Will Survive_ is from Gloria Gaynor, and _This Ain't A Love Song_ is from Bon Jovi. And I'm sure you already knew it, I don't own any of them…


End file.
